The ache for home lives in all of us, the safe place where we can go as we are and not be questioned.
At home I am a nice guy: but I don’t want the world to know. Humble people, I’ve found, don’t get very far.
I’m lucky because I have a job I love. I really miss being away from home, being in my own bed, seeing my animals and siblings, having my moms cookies. I have a couple cats. I got a kitten about a year ago and now Im going on the road so I wont see him for a while. I feel bad.
The home to everyone is to him his castle and fortress, as well for his defence against injury and violence, as for his repose.
The house has to please everyone, contrary to the work of art which does not. The work is a private matter for the artist. The house is not.
Home, nowadays, is a place where part of the family waits till the rest of the family brings the car back.